


An Ace up my Sleeve

by claudinedelyon



Category: SKAM (Italy)
Genre: Ace Elia, Asexual Character, Asexuality, Canon compliant until the end of season 3, Character Study, Demisexual Gio, Friendship, Gen, Headcanon, Internalized Toxic Masculinity, It's A Process, Luca's the only straight guy in this boysquad, Sexuality is Complicated, Supportive bros, conversations between friends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-18
Updated: 2019-10-05
Packaged: 2020-02-29 12:43:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18778534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/claudinedelyon/pseuds/claudinedelyon
Summary: Elia's had some things on his mind lately and tonight, sitting with Marti and watching their friends dance, with a little help from some booze and some weed, some of it starts to spill out.And then, it keeps happening.Or a journey through five conversations.





	1. Martino

**Author's Note:**

> I apologize for the title.

Elia sits back against the wall, drawing himself up, exhaling smoke and stretching out his legs. It feels like any leftover tension he was still carrying whooshes out of his body in one breath, leaving him feeling at peace, relaxed, full of fondness for everybody in the room, hell, in the house, and just a tad sentimental. Next to him, he can feel Martino’s shoulder bump against his.

“Come on, Santini, don’t hog that joint.”

Speaking of fondness, he passes the joint with a rush of affection for his friend, who looks about as content as Elia feels, even though he’d have so many reasons not to. But one thing he and everybody else have discovered lately is that snarky, secretive Martino may still be a shitty goalkeeper, but he is absolutely fearless. And sure, Elia may envy him a little bit for it, but mostly he admires him. Like tonight, Peccio offered to have everybody at his house, because nobody wanted to risk a repeat of the past few weeks and the guys from Piazza Giuochi aren’t stupid enough to cross the city to show up at somebody’s house.

Now that the party is in full swing, everybody looks fine, but the reality is that Gio has been out of his mind with worry, Nico and Eva are filled with misplaced guilt, and he and Luca have been on edge pretty much constantly. Meanwhile, Marti walks around like he’s just shrugged the whole thing off. He probably hasn’t quite but he’s certainly looking like he’s refusing to let a bunch of assholes bring him down. Then again, Marti’s always been very good at surprising even the people who think they know him best.

But never mind that, right now they can all forget about everything for a few hours, it’s just them and people who don’t want to look for trouble or who know better than to go after Martino among this particular crowd.

Elia glances around the room. Luca is sort of dancing at Silvia and Sana, which has got to take a lot of guts. If one thing can be said about his endeavor to try and seduce Silvia is that so far it has been persistent. He’s not sure if there is much more to say on the matter for now but Luca can also be surprising when he puts his mind to it. Gio’s in a corner with Sofia, while Eva is dancing with a group of girls from their class, actively not watching them. Niccolò’s having an animated conversation with Chicco Rodi and Rocco Martucci, which Elia feels should really make Martino more concerned than he is. But instead, he’s observing the scene with a happy smile like nothing bad could come of it. Having learned a few days ago that the whole Silvia disaster had originated with Nico, Elia now has what he feels is a very healthy distrust for any of his ideas. He’s also planning on exacting some form of revenge at some point, he just needs to find the right moment.

Elia’s eyes are drawn back to Luca, who has managed to draw a laugh from both Silvia and Sana, which is no small feat.

The scene brings him back to his previous train of thoughts, and he elbows Martino to draw his attention.

“Silvia, Marti? You really thought I was going to go for Silvia?”

It takes Marti, who was probably following his own thoughts in a very different direction, a couple of seconds to catch up and answer.

“Hey, come on. She’s not that bad.”

“Since when?” Elia snorts, remembering in vivid details Martino whining about the very concept of the radio and anybody who was involved in it. At least, until he developed a passion for it and a certain dark-haired host.

“Since… I don’t know. Since she manages to keep the radio running pretty smoothly and it can’t be easy because nobody listens to her.”

“Fine, okay. But, honestly… what did you imagine that was going to look like, the two of us together?”

Elia briefly wonders what the hell is in this weed that makes him want to ask these questions after doing everything he could to avoid the subject ever since he became aware of the stratagem. It feels like, now that he’s opened Pandora’s box, he’s just too curious to try and put the lid back on it. Martino shrugs, passing the joint back to him.

“I think you’re overestimating how much thought went into this. Or that we had an actual plan.”

Elia laughs because that explains a lot. Shoving Silvia’s Instagram in his face or dropping her name at any opportunity certainly wasn’t going to do the trick.

“But, hey, looks like it’s not going too badly for Luchi,” Martino continues.

They both look to the other end of the room, where the girls have been joined by Fede and all three are now trying to follow Luca's moves.

“Damn, I don’t know how he just did that but he’s good.”

Elia rests his head against the wall and closes his eyes, taking a deep breath to anchor himself in the moment, humming to the music. They stay quiet for about a minute before Martino speaks again, apparently not having quite moved on from the topic yet.

“You really don’t want to date anyone?”

“Why? Does that sound so hard to believe? We can’t all find a Nico waiting for us in a radio booth.”

There’s a gleam in Marti’s eyes that makes Elia wish he could take back something in his last statement. He’s not quite sure what, but there has to be something because nothing good can come from that look.

“Is that why you weren’t interested in Silvia? Because you want a Nico?”

So, the problem is not Elia’s words, the problem is that Martino is a dumbass with a one-track mind. He rolls his eye as hard as he can to convey what he thinks of that idea.

“What the fuck are you on about?”

“‘Cause I’m sure we could introduce you to some guys. Hey, you remember Ele’s brother?”

Fully turning towards him in the hope of carrying his point across, Elia joins his hands in what is basically a prayer.

“Marti, I’m begging you. Drop the matchmaking. You’re not good at it and I’m not interested.”

“Okay, I’m not helping you, then.”

“That’s all I’m asking.”

They both take a sip of their drinks while still watching their friends having fun in front of them. Elia’s thoughts have drifted away from their original conversation and he’s about to comment on Gio’s dance moves when Martino speaks before he can.

“You’re not still into Sofi, right?”

“Sofi?” The question takes him a bit by surprise, it feels like years have passed since his desperate, clumsy attempt to get her attention. “No, dude, I’m really not.”

Martino exhales like he’s relieved he doesn’t have to deal with one of his friends liking the other’s girlfriend again. It had already looked like a world of trouble when they had had to witness it happening to Gio and Eva. The whole thing with the Argentinean had been a disaster from start to finish and he was glad that was behind him. Yes, he had been disappointed when he realized she had no idea what he had just said, but definitely not as disappointed as he expected to be.

“And there’s nobody else you like?”

“No, Marti, there isn’t anybody. That’s the thing.”

“What do you mean?”

Elia sighs. Unfortunately for him, Martino appears to have hit on something that has been on his mind more and more recently. It doesn’t worry him exactly, but it occurred to him at some point after one too many times of listening to Gio whine about Eva last autumn and after seeing Martino’s face when Niccolò took a whole day to answer his text in Bracciano that he’s never met anybody that had the same effect on him. Of course, he’s still young and not everybody meets their soulmate at 17, but it got him thinking.

Mostly, it got him thinking about the fact that the people around him all seem to think he’s had much more experience with girls than he actually does. That’s not even a result he actually strove to achieve, it just sort of happened. The thing is that he did end up a few times, usually after a copious amount of alcohol and/or weed, making out with girls he had just met at the end of parties. As nice as the making out had been, it had however never led to anything more and that hadn’t been because the girls weren’t into it. It hasn’t happened quite as often as people seem to think either. With the right look and the right body language, he learned pretty quickly that people will draw their own conclusions from the vaguest statements without him even needing to lie.

Anyway, the whole thing’s been at the forefront of his mind lately, his inhibitions seem to be MIA tonight and Marti’s by his side, listening and looking at him earnestly, while their friends are dancing and laughing. He’s just high enough not to care as much as usual about wanting to keep some things to himself.

“I mean, I haven’t really been that into anybody yet. And I don’t particularly feel like hooking up with somebody just so I can say I did it.”

“You don’t? Could have fooled me,” Martino laughs.

“Oh yeah? Like you fooled us when you kept hitting on Emma last year?” he retorts because as grateful as he is for Martino’s attention, two can play this game.

“Fuck off. And are you saying you weren’t even into Sofi? Because you guys were never shutting up about her last year, seriously.” Elia shrugs. “Please don’t tell me I had to listen to all that bullshit for nothing,” Marti insists.

“Well, not for nothing, look at that.”

He gestures towards Gio and Sofia who have now joined the groupd dancing around Luca.

“Okay, maybe not for nothing. But, I don’t know, you always had some story about the girls you hooked up with at parties. I get that doesn’t mean you necessarily liked them that much, but…”

“There weren’t that many stories. Or that many girls,” Elia replies, shaking his head.

Martino doesn’t say anything but one glance at him shows that he seems in deep contemplation, holding his cup against his chest, frowning in concentration. Elia snorts and lets him ponder whatever he has to. It doesn’t take that long, as Martino is also only a drink or two into the evening.

“Fuck, I was so sure you had so many stories and right now, I can only find maybe a couple.”

With a smug smile, Elia raises his cup in his direction.

“See?”

“Okay, fine, there weren’t that many. So were you into one of them, then? Like, actually attracted to one of them?”

Oddly enough, that’s the question Elia starts having trouble answering. Saying that there weren’t any may be the truth, but it feels like too much of an admission. He doesn’t have any other answer, however, and in the end, it is his silence that conveys the message. Martino’s eyes widen.

“Oh. Okay. But you’re always talking about how hot you think girls are or aren’t.”

With some reluctance and as he considers Martino’s point, he has to admit that he may not be wrong. He has never given that much thought to the way he talks about girls with his friends, it’s always felt normal. It felt expected. The fact that he didn’t really follow through on his own words never seemed all that relevant.

“Yeah, maybe.” He tries to put into words why while Martino finishes the last dregs in his cup and patiently waits for him to continue. “I don’t know. I never really thought about it, that’s just how we’ve always talked about it.”

“Yeah, I know. I used to do that, too. But that’s the thing, if you don’t mean it, you don’t have to. And if you’re not into anybody, that’s no big deal. The guys certainly won’t care. Luchi will probably be glad he gets more girls to himself,” he adds with a grin.

“Yeah, more girls to reject him, lucky guy.”

There’s a knot in his gut that has started to loosen at Martino’s words and he’s not sure why. He’s wondering what’s happening to him. He hadn’t been planning on telling anyone about any of this. Not because he doesn’t trust his friends, simply because he didn’t know where his reflections were taking him quite yet. He doesn’t even know how to really put it into words that make sense. But there he is, with only two drinks and a joint in him, spewing nonsense to Martino who seems to accept it like it was normal.

“Man, you’re all wised up, what happened to you?” He teases instead, hoping to change the subject.

“Dude, you’ve no idea.”

 

They go back to gazing around the room until their eyes fall on Nico, Chico and Rocco all gesturing excitedly, which can only spell trouble.

“You think I should go rescue him?” Martino asks.

“I think Rodi and Martucci may be the ones that need to be rescued.”

Martino punches his arm and makes to stand up when Elia reflexively grabs his sleeve.

“Hey, Marti? You won’t tell the others, right?”

Like this entire conversation, he’s not sure where the sudden need for secrecy comes from. He doesn’t feel like he’s actually said much, or anything really significant, but it still seems important to keep it private. At least, for now.

“Of course not.”

“I mean, I assume you tell Nico everything we tell you, but the guys…”

Martino cuts him off. “I wasn’t going to tell Nico. Not if you don’t want me to.”

“Really?” Martino shrugs like it should be obvious and the weed must really be making him sentimental, because Elia’s throat tightens. “I mean... I guess he can keep a secret, right?”

Martino laughs at that, a short and private laugh.

“Yeah, he can keep a secret.”

“Not that there’s any secret to keep or anything. It must have been the weed talking.”

Martino smiles and pats his thigh before standing up.

“Don’t worry, Eli. We got you.”


	2. (Eva)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eva and Marti reflect on their matchmaking attempts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's not as Elia-centric, but I woke up with an idea for a little follow-up, so there you go.

Cold drink in hand, Eva perches herself up on the arm of a sofa, the only seat available that does not require her to maneuver to the other side of the room amongst drunk and dancing people. Two fifth-years are leaning over a phone next to her and another one seems to be fast asleep despite the music booming around them. She takes a sip while surveying the room around her.

Sana, Federica and Mauro are engaged in some kind of dance routine they seem to have just made up. In his usual spot behind the laptop, Fede is taking a sip of his own drink and when he meets her eyes, he raises his cup in her direction. Chicco Rodi, next to him, sees him do it and raises his own cup even higher. With a laugh, she toasts them before they go back to staring at the screen. Edoardo and Eleonora are nowhere to be seen. Beyond the drinks table, on another chair which would be too small for any other two people, Silvia and Luca are pressed together and kissing, completely impervious to anything else going on around them. Eva is still looking at them, marveling at the way things happen sometimes, when somebody wraps their arms around her neck in a hug.

“Hey, Eva!”

She recognizes the slightly slurring voice before he gets into her line of sight, so she’s already smiling when he comes to stand by her side.

“Hey, Marti.”

“What are you doing out here by yourself?”

She lifts her cup.

“It got too hot, I came to get a drink and sit for five minutes.”

“Oh, yeah, I came to get drinks, too," he replies, holding up two empty cups.

“I’ll come with you, I’ve almost finished mine already.”

She follows him to the drinks table. While he is pouring some kind of concoction into one of the cups, he keeps glancing at Silvia and Luca.

“Can you believe that actually worked?” Eva asks, which draws a laugh from him.

“I don’t think we can really take any credit for that. That was all Luchi’s doing.”

“I know, that’s what makes it even harder to believe.”

“Hey, Luchi’s a cool guy,” Martino retorts, before adding, less confidently, “Sometimes.”

“I mean, Silvia certainly seems to think so.”

The bubble Silvia and Luca had been safely ensconced in suddenly bursts as Elia runs up to them out of nowhere and starts excitedly rambling about something they can’t hear over the music.

“So, we can still find somebody for Elia.”

Martino doesn’t answer right away, and they watch Gio and Nico run over to drag Elia away.

“No, I think Elia’s okay.”

“Are you sure? ‘Cause you know Giulia from 4A? I was talking to her before and she asked if he was single…”

He puts her hand on her arm, and she cuts herself off to look at him.

“I think he's fine as he is," he repeats. "And if he wanted to find somebody, I’m pretty sure he could make it happen."

He sounds pretty sure of himself and she doesn't know Elia well enough to contradict him. Not to mention that finding someone for Elia sounds like an effort she's not sure she's ready to put in.

“Okay,” she shrugs.

“Also, I think we should never, ever try to be matchmakers again.”

“You know what, I’m fine with that.”


	3. Luca

“Are you not interested in girls anymore?”

Elia chokes on the bottle of water he is drinking from as Luca plops down on the sand next to him, dripping water all over his towel. He looks at Elia who is coughing and trying to catch his breath, one arm extended as if he was torn between wanting to smack him on the back and remembering that he’s not actually supposed to do that. Once the bottle has been safely put down and water hopefully dislodged from Elia’s airways, he manages to croak out a response.

“What?”

It is not the most eloquent he’s ever been, but it’s still an answer.

“I just asked if you weren’t interested in girls anymore. Is it because you're spending too much time with Marti and Nico?”

Elia wipes off the water on his chin and levels Luca with a look. “Are you implying that being gay may be contagious or something?”

Luca rolls his eyes like he’s being difficult on purpose. “No. And Nico's not gay. I don't think.” He pauses and gives a thoughtful look towards the water, where Niccolò is distracting Martino while Gio creeps up behind him. “Maybe I should ask him.”

“Yeah, or maybe you shouldn't. But if you do, I definitely want to be there.”

“No, but seriously,” Luca tries again, ignoring him, which even Elia has to admit is fair. “I know being gay isn't contagious, but spending time with people who aren’t straight can make you reconsider stuff, right?”

Although, objectively, Elia knows that Luca does talk sense sometimes, it’s just strange to have this unsuspected wisdom directed at him. In addition, he makes a frighteningly good point, and Elia is briefly at a loss as to how to answer because he’s pretty sure that’s exactly what’s been happening to him. And one day, he’s going to have words with Nico about that. He doesn’t mind the occasional bout of introspection of self-reflection, as long as he can blame it on somebody else. Instead, he turns the question back on Luca.

“Have you been reconsidering stuff?”

“No. I’ve thought about it but I like girls.” He sounds almost regretful, and Elia snorts.

“Silvia's going to be glad to hear it.”

“Oh, she knows.” Luca winks and holds out his fist.

“Dude, no, I'm not fist bumping that.”

Luca takes the refusal with his usual good humor and lies down on his towel, and Elia mentally cheers himself for getting off the hook.

 

They are away for a few days before they all go off to their summer jobs or various summer plans on a guys-only holiday in Sardinia, which Gio keeps calling “the land of my people” even though by his own admission nobody in his family has lived on the island in at least three generations. Even the flat they’re staying at belongs to a second or third cousin of Nico’s.

Not that he cares that much, but Elia can’t help but feel that the whole thing is a little unfair. They decided it was guys only, so Silvia and Sofia aren’t here, but Martino still gets to bring his boyfriend and thus, to claim the one bedroom and the only bed in the apartment. Meanwhile the rest of them have to fight over the fold-out sofa and the old inflatable mattress. All because Gio and Luca are dating girls and he hasn’t met anyone he liked. Yet.

When he had complained about it to the guys, Luca had shrugged off his outrage and offered to take the mattress. He didn’t mind, he said. Luca never minds. He takes things in stride. As much as it can be exhausting being his friend on some days, most of the time it is actually sort of restful.

Giovanni hadn’t minded either, because he never minds anything as long as Martino’s happy. Well, Elia does mind. But he had been vastly outnumbered and he hadn’t wanted to be the party pooper, so he was sharing the sofa with Gio. It wasn’t even that bad.

And then, there’s the whole going away with people who are all in relationships thing. Now, Elia is happy for his friends, he really is. Still, Gio is constantly texting Sofia, Luca keeps complaining that he misses Silvia, and Marti and Nico take any chance when it’s just the five of them to be disgustingly in love. Elia can’t blame them for that because they’re still not that eager to be demonstrative in public, especially not after last spring, but it’s not helping him get his mind off stuff he doesn’t want to think about. Neither are Luca’s questions.

 

“So are you or aren't you? Still interested in girls?” The question draws Elia out of his thoughts. So much for being off the hook.

“Why would you ask me that?”

“I don’t know. I think we should talk more.”

“We talk all the time," Elia counters.

“Not really, though. We didn’t talk to Marti enough last year and we missed out on all that stuff that was happening to him. And then when he told us about Nico and about Milan, it helped to make things better. You know, Silvia says the girls talk about pretty much everything.”

That’s also been an odd pattern recently, and especially since Marti had come out, people wanting to talk. Even people outside of school. His mom dropping hints that he could confide in her. His grandpa asking for help in the garden and whispering that it was the best time to swap secrets, because you couldn’t betray a secret that had been entrusted to the soil. His friends from football whose tongues loosened after practice. Suddenly, everybody wanted to talk. And no matter how much he fought it, even Elia did.

“But if you don’t want to tell me, I guess that’s fine. I was just curious,” Luca adds.

Elia watches as he attempts to put on sunscreen while lying down and despite not being completely dry yet. It takes him a good minute to give up and sit up.

It's twice now that the subject has come up. Even though the first time was almost two months ago, it is still pretty fresh in his memory. Like that first time with Marti, he could easily deflect, Luca’s just given him an out. But the thing is, he doesn’t want to. Maybe that means something. Maybe he cares more than he's willing to admit. He can't even blame the alcohol this time.

He’s even willing to admit that Luca and everybody else probably have a point about talking things through. If his dad had been better at talking things through, his mom might not have gone back to live in Livorno. Elia himself might not be so frazzled by a simple question. As much as he loves his father, he’s pretty sure he’d rather not turn out like him.

“Actually, I’m not sure, Luchi.”

Luca, bless him, does not make a big deal out of it like somebody else might have. Like with the mattress or with everything else, he takes it in stride.

“So, boys then?”

“No, I don’t think so.”

“Okay.” He can’t help but watch Luca for his reaction so he sees him scrunch up his face in thought. “Then, is it all girls or is it just that you don’t like the girls at our school?”

“I don’t know.” The problem with this conversation is not so much that he doesn’t want to have it, but that there are so many questions he still doesn’t have the answer to. Like the seemingly basic questions he’s just been asked. He’s 18, it seems early to be definitive about anything. He’s mostly basing all this on a sense that he doesn’t care about some things that seem so important to all his friends. “It could be the girls at school.” He is not quite convinced by his own answer, but it feels safe enough for now.

“Okay, is it just that you have high standards? I don’t think that’s a bad thing.”

Elia bites back the wave of irritation that sweeps through him as well as a remark about Luca’s own standards because it is pretty obvious that being with Silvia makes him very happy, and even he isn’t that much of a dick.

“No, it’s not about standards. My standards are normal, I guess. I’m not being difficult, I’m just… not interested. Yet.” The “yet” comes as an afterthought and after a pause that’s way too long not to be noticeable. “And I don’t know if that’s going to change or not.”

Luca hums thoughtfully. “Do you think it could be a thing?”

“A thing? What thing?”

“A thing! A sexuality thing. Like being gay or bi. Or pan.” The words slip out so casually that Elia almost misses that they’re being uttered by Luca, the same Luca who, not that long ago, didn’t know the difference between bi and trans.

“Pan? Dude, have you been reading up?”

“Of course I have.”

His reply is so confident that doubt immediately starts to creep in Elia's mind. Should he have been reading up as well? Is he the only one who didn’t know that having a gay friend came with homework? Would Martino expect it? He doesn’t think he would, but it might have been the nice thing to do.

Elia's about to inquire into how much reading Luca’s been doing when he is hit by an actual, literal bucket of cold water which is poured onto his head and shoulders, and he freezes, unable to breathe for a second. He thankfully recovers quickly enough to hear laughter behind him and identify the culprit who takes off running as soon as he turns around. He doesn’t stop to think where Gio could have even found a bucket and peels off after him.

“Garau, you Sardinian son of a bitch, I'm going to kill you!”


	4. Filippo

Elia has never been the New Year’s resolutions kind of guy. If he wanted to spend three days putting too much pressure on himself to achieve ridiculously high goals only to then consider any stumble as a personal failure, he could do that at any time of the year.

There is, however, something to be said for the finality of December 31st as a date, for counting down the ending year before jumping into the new one with both feet surrounded by his friends. And Elia always tries to give the past year a proper send-off. It’s a way to put things in the past and move on. A blank slate. He’s not against a bit of symbolism, and he does really like the idea of filling in this slate as he wishes throughout the year only to wipe it off and start over.

The past year might have been less eventful than 2018, but it still managed to feature some much-needed beating up of homophobic assholes and a not-so-needed visit to the police that had not been easy to explain to his parents.

Even more than that, the main reason 2019 feels like it left its mark, at least in Elia’s mind, is that he is now on a mental track he can’t stop and he might have finally figured out his destination.

After his conversation with Luca last summer, Elia had decided to give Googling a try and found himself falling fast down a rabbit hole. Except he had not found anything that could help him be a better friend to Marti or Nico. Instead he had found himself in front of a mirror, reading as people were putting words on what he hadn’t been able to pinpoint until then, and calling it asexual.

It had quickly become almost addictive, finding his own thoughts threaded with the experiences of complete strangers. Since then, it had felt as if even when he was not actively thinking about it, some part of him was always processing everything he had thought he knew about himself through this new lens in the background.

 

This accidental self-discovery had more or less coincided with the time he met Chiara at his summer job. Their schedules usually matched up and they found themselves on several occasions cleaning up and locking up after everybody had left.

Chiara was into him and not being shy about it, and Elia really liked her. She was beautiful and funny as hell, and once they started hanging out outside of work, she kicked his ass repeatedly at video games. So one night, towards the end of one of their shifts and as they were on the verge on yet another mop fight, when she had leaned in instead, he had met her halfway and they had ended up at her house making out late into the night. And when, after repeatedly ending their shifts at her house while her parents were on holiday, kissing had led to more, it had seemed like the natural segue and he hadn’t thought about it too hard.

It was the first time for them both so he wasn’t expecting fireworks. The problems had started later. Once she had realized that she was always the one to initiate anything sexual between them, she had seemed to take what she called his lack of interest personally. Elia, however, had not felt that he was particularly unenthusiastic and never minded having sex with her. He simply could have done without. But not minding had not been enough for Chiara. She had dumped him before summer even ended.

He hadn’t dared share his new knowledge about asexuality with her, it was still too new and overwhelming. He was still holding the label carefully and studying it from every angle before deciding if it would fit. And given her reaction, he wasn’t sure it would have helped anyway.

He had gone back to school single again and unsure what to make of the experience or of the bruise of Chiara’s parting words.

Gio, being who he is, had been ready and eager to talk about it and cheer him up. But Elia hadn’t really known how to feel and hadn’t been keen to go into the details. Martino, who understood that these things could take time, had changed the subject seamlessly as often as necessary, and the debt of gratitude Elia owed him kept growing.

A few weeks later, as he had ended up he couldn’t remember how trying to help Marti find Nico a birthday gift, he had casually asked him if he had ever heard about asexuality. Martino had nodded, given him a searching look and clapped him on the back with a smile.

Now, over three months later, Elia mostly knows what to keep and what to wipe off the 2019 slate. Chiara, however, remains one of the few topics he is still on the fence about.

 

With all these thoughts in mind, he finds himself one hour into the New Year, slouching on a sofa next to Filippo. It’s not a sign, because he doesn’t believe in that, but it’s convenient. Although they don’t actually know each other that well, he remembers Martino going on about how helpful he had been with his own sexuality crisis.

Oddly enough, he also seems like just the right level of acquaintanceship for the idea that has started to take shape in his mind. He’s not sure why, they’ve never even had a one-on-one conversation before. It might have to do with the bright pink bottle that has been making the rounds at the party, the contents of which are still somewhat of a mystery.

“Filo, you know all sorts of LGBT people, right?”

Filippo turns towards him with a blank look, and he can almost see the buffering wheel working behind his eyes until they snap into focus.

“Sure. I've got all the letters of the alphabet, which one do you need?”

“All the letters of the alphabet?” Elia can’t help but ask. Filippo nods, unshakable. “Okay, then what’s… Y?”

“That’s the question I ask myself every morning.”

That one is definitely on Elia. He walked right into it, but he will not concede defeat so easily.

“Fine, then what’s K?”

“That’s potassium.”

“Well, man, thank you very much for your help,” he responds, making to stand up, and Filippo grabs his arm to drag him down.

“Wow, so touchy. What did you want to know? Come on,” he insists when Elia keeps silent. “Consulting hours are always, how can I help?”

“Do you know anybody who’s asexual?”

Filippo gives him a long look that he isn’t sure how to read, but that feels like he is being sized up.

“Sure.” Elia doesn't say anything else because he hasn’t really planned beyond that. “You want to talk to them? They're cool. Well, actually, one’s kind of a dick. But the other’s cool.”

“What about you, what do you know about asexuality?” He replies, because he isn’t that sure about bringing in even more people into this.

“Oof, not that much, actually. I’ve heard a lot of stuff, but some of it was definitely bullshit. And if you want to find these guys at Pride, you gotta follow the purple.” He stops there, so apparently, “not that much” wasn’t an exaggeration.

“Wow, Marti was right, you are full of insight.”

“Hey, I’m not a walking encyclopedia.” Filippo sits up and makes a visible effort to search his brain for anything more. “Fuck, this would have been much easier if you were gay.”

“That’s not a sentence you hear every day,” Elia replies with a laugh, because it was that or getting offended and he refuses to be offended so early in the year.

“Sorry, forget I said that. I’m not actually sure I’m sober enough for this conversation.”

“Yeah, well I’m not sure I can have it sober.”

“Why not? It doesn’t have to be embarrassing. You’d also probably take a lot more from it. Whatever you’ve got on your mind, I’m sure they’re valid concerns. There’s no reason talking about them should require alcohol.” Filippo looks about as surprised as Elia is at his bout of eloquence, until his expression takes on just a hint of smugness.

“Wasn’t Marti hammered when he talked to you?”

“Only the first time and he kept insisting he was straight.” Filippo gives him a look that makes his thoughts on the topic pretty clear. “If you’re trying to tell me you’re straight, I don’t think you need to bother.”

“Fine. Let’s have it sober then,” Elia sighs, before this conversation takes another unnecessary detour into a wall.

Filippo extends his hand so they can shake on it. “Fine by me. You hit me up whenever, and I promise I’ll find something coherent to say.”

Elia shakes his hand. “Deal.”

 

When two days later find him staring down both the same Website he’s visited over and over again and the end of his winter break, before it becomes easy to hide behind schoolwork again, Elia makes himself text Filippo. They set up a time and place the next day. An hour later, Filippo texts back asking if he can bring somebody with him, offering promises of confidentiality as well as actual, relevant advice.

Elia stares at his phone for a moment, then twirls it over his desk while he ponders his answer. Out of all the drunken bullshit Filippo had spouted during New Year’s, “it doesn’t have to be embarrassing” keeps going round in his head. It really doesn’t have to be.

He replies before he can change his mind, “Okay.”

 

He finds Filippo squeezed in the corner of the busy bar next to a girl who looks like she might be in college as well. He makes his way to them through the crowd of students and is introduced to Lela. The first thing he really notices about Lela, when she lifts up a hand to tug at the scarf holding back her dark braids, is that she wears a black ring on her right middle finger. He has read enough to know what that means. A few minutes later, when she takes off her sweater while complaining about the bar being overheated, he also notices that she has an ace of hearts tattooed on the inside of her arm, and he doesn’t know that one, but he can guess the general idea. She’s literally wearing her asexuality on her sleeve.

They make small talk for a few minutes once Elia has managed to weasel his way to the bar and return with his drink until she turns to him with a conspiratorial smile.

“So, how much bullshit did that idiot tell you when you asked about asexuality?”

Filippo rolls his eyes, and Elia likes her already.

“Hey, I may not know everything but I help people. I guide the young gays of this nation towards happiness and hot guys. What have you done?” He directs the question at Lela who sports the unimpressed expression of somebody who is used to Filippo.

“Still not gay,” Elia points out.

“And I guide the young questioning towards the right people for them,” Filippo amends, gesturing between the other two.

“Right, that’s where I come in, I guess,” Lela starts before he can keep going. “So, what did you want to know?”

Elia had briefly forgotten this was not just a random conversation, but that he had had a goal in mind when approaching Filippo during New Year’s. Or maybe not really a specific goal, but an intent. Now that he’s supposed to explain it, he can’t quite remember what it was.

“I can leave you guys alone if you prefer,” Filippo offers, holding his drink as if he was preparing to down it and leave the bar this very second.

Elia still hasn’t quite recovered his original intent, and it suddenly seems intimidating to end up face to face with this strange girl, no matter how friendly she looks, without Filippo acting as buffer if needed. Luckily, Filippo’s looking at him, waiting for his answer.

“No, it’s okay, you can stay.” His tone is detached enough not to raise suspicions. Or at least, if Filippo gets that Elia’s secretly begging him to stay, he doesn’t show it.

 

In the end, the conversation resumes easily enough. Lela asks what he knows about asexuality and it just sort of keeps going from there. She doesn’t really tell him anything he doesn’t already know. Still, it’s different hearing it from her, put in the context of her own experience, than reading words behind unknown usernames. It starts to actually feel like this is actually how some people live and it doesn’t make them weird or attention-seeking. Filippo remains uncharacteristically quiet through most of the conversation, only chiming in when one of them addresses him directly.

After Lela tells him about her first girlfriend who, upon learning she didn’t want to have sex, had accepted it in a heartbeat, and the guy who on the contrary, had called her frigid and never contacted her again, Elia tells her about Chiara, even though he had up until now kept the details of the breakup for himself. She listens with a sympathetic look on her face and squeezes his arm with an “I’m sorry” when he’s done.

It’s a simple gesture and a few polite words, and coming from a quasi stranger too, but somehow it’s exactly what he needed for the doubt that had been whispering in his ear that he was overreacting or even that he had been the one in the wrong, to lift. Filippo’s face remains pretty inscrutable, which is unusual, but he gives Elia a nod when their eyes meet. It’s also oddly comforting. Elia never knew he could crave this kind of validation so deeply that an “I’m sorry” and a nod were enough assurances that there were people who understood.

He clears his throat to thank them, not eager to dwell on the subject. With one look at him, Lela, who might actually have a sixth sense, changes the subject by pointing to her tattoo and asking if he knows what it means.

 

After about an hour and a half, Lela gets a text and with an apology, explains that she is supposed to meet up with friends. She gives him her number with instructions to text about anything and gets ready to leave. At the last second, she turns around and grabs Elia by the shoulders with a solemn expression. “And remember, you do you, it’s up to you to find the right label or not, only you know what you feel, don’t let people tell you otherwise, and other vague, uplifting things, I guess.” She pauses and squeezes his shoulders. “Do you feel validated?”

Elia laughs. “Extremely.”

“Have I been a good guide to the young asexuals and led them towards happiness and doing whatever the fuck they want with their lives?”

“You’re the only one I’ve met, but you were the best,” he assures her.

She gives Filippo, who is watching the scene while shaking his head, an extremely smug look and disappears outside the bar with a wave.

Elia and Filippo remain in silence for a few seconds after her departure while the former still processes everything he’s just heard and the latter scrolls through his phone.

“I promised you something coherent, didn’t I?” Filippo eventually says, his tone surprisingly devoid of sarcasm.

“You did. And I can’t believe you delivered. Thanks.”

“I told you, I help people.” He looks towards the distance in contemplation. “I might be a hero.”

“You’ve got the humility down at least.”

Filippo makes a face at him and holds out his phone. “I’m gonna go, too, if you’re good.”

“Oh, right. I’m supposed to meet up with the guys anyway.”

They put on their jackets and step outside the bar to the cold January air. “Thanks, Filo, really. That did help.” Filippo just gives him a nod and a smile. “And happy New Year, I guess,” Elia adds before they make their separate ways.

“Happy New Year, Elia.”


	5. Giovanni

It’s not that Elia had any particular plans for Valentine’s Day or even any desire to mark the occasion in any way.

What happens is that Martino and Luca are both busy being in love and making plans with their respective better halves — their words, not Elia’s — and that a newly-single Giovanni has been a little down lately. Since, it just so happens that February 14th falls on a Friday night and that neither of them has anything going on, it turns into Elia and Gio having a one-on-one movie night at the Garaus’.

It takes one pizza and a half for them to end up slouched on the couch as the credits of their second _Ghostbusters_ of the night roll on the screen, neither of them willing to move to stop them.

All the movies they’ve considered have a certain theme to them, and it’s no coincidence. Supernatural and ghost stories, ass kicking, and little to no romance were the general criteria they had both seemed to gravitate towards.

Elia privately thinks that list might be a good summary of his life, for whoever is willing to extend slightly their definition of ass kicking. And except for the fact that the ghost stories he had loved so much as a kid had been nothing but stories. The analogy might be a stretch, but he finds it comforting.

They’ve both eaten more pizza than they can stomach, as the remaining slices, long cold, can attest, and yet they still occasionally eye the brownie sitting on the coffee table while waiting for the other to make the first move to take a piece. Elia is starting to consider he might explode if he eats any more, but he won’t back down from the challenge if it’s being issued.

 

It’s been a quiet night but it’s also restful to not have to spend the evening trying to locate friends at various parties while making sure nobody gets left behind and everybody’s happy.

Earlier, they had kicked off things, taking advantage of it being just the two of them, by profusely making fun of their friends and whatever cheesy plans they’ve concocted, despite the fact that, only a few weeks ago, Gio had still been one of them. That doesn’t matter, and even though Elia does feel for Gio, he’ll selfishly admit that it’s nice to not be the only single one in the group anymore.

He manages to stretch himself out enough over the arm of the couch to pick up his glass of Coke on the ground and take a sip when a phone buzzes. Elia's is in his pocket, so he knows it's not his, but Gio is soon squinting at his screen, scrolling down for a second before his expression turns unhappy.

“What’s up?” Elia asks, hoping it's not one of their friends whose date has crashed and burned and is now in need of a rescue. It doesn’t seem likely, but he’s learned that things can take a turn for the worse pretty quickly.

Gio takes his eyes off the screen briefly. “Nothing. Ele’s having some kind of girls’ night apparently and Sofi’s there.”

Out of curiosity, Elia takes the phone away from him, to an indignant protest from its owner. He has time to catch sight of the fact that Sofia’s the one who posted the pictures before Gio manages to steal his phone back.

“Are you serious? You dumped her and you still follow her?”

“So, what? I still like her. It doesn’t mean we can’t be friends. Maybe not right now, but later.” After a second, he adds, “I still follow Eva,” and immediately looks like he regrets saying it.

Elia doesn’t point out that that might be one of the reasons things went south with Sofia, but he feels like he thinks it loudly enough that it hangs in the air between them.

“Are you having second thoughts?” He asks instead. “Or are you just that much of a masochist?”

“No,” Gio protests. “To both. I don’t know, I just haven't gotten around to it yet. Are you telling me you unfollowed Chiara right away when you guys broke up?”

Elia gives him a suspicious glance. Gio’s been trying to garner information without overstepping his bounds about what happened with Chiara ever since Elia categorically refused to talk about it in more than vague terms. But he’s still looking at his phone and doesn’t seem to have any ulterior motives.

“I didn’t have much say in it,” Elia tells him. “She blocked me pretty much the next day.”

Gio looks up with a sympathetic expression. “Fuck, I’m sorry, man. It was that bad?”

He looks genuinely stricken at hearing this, and although telling Lela and Filippo the details had been liberating, it’s not the same as telling one of his best friends. After all, he’s been on this slippery slope of talking to people about how he feels, and it hasn’t come back to bite him in the ass yet. He looks down at the empty glass in his hand and scrapes his nail against the rim.

“Yeah, it was pretty shit.”

When he looks back up, Gio doesn’t need to prompt him to continue, the encouragement is there in his eyes. So, Elia says screw secrecy and repressing his feelings and tells him while Gio sits up and crosses his legs on the couch to give him his full attention.

He glosses over some of the details of the argument that had ended with Chiara asking him to leave, if only because a lot of it is still pretty hazy in his mind. What had started out the same way a lot of the time they spent together started, with making out on her bed after work, had suddenly devolved into both of them trying to assert their side and barely listening to the other.

In retrospect, and even though he’ll gladly leave most of the responsibility for the whole scene to Chiara, Elia has to admit that neither of them had come out at their best in that moment. He had been defensive in the face of her questions, and she had twisted his words through the filter of her own insecurities, and all in all, it hadn’t been the best instance of effective communication in Elia’s life.

Two days later, through some superhuman feat, Chiara had managed to get all her next shifts changed, and since by then, they only had two weeks left of summer vacation and thus, of their contracts, it hadn’t been hard to ignore each other at work.

Never before has Elia been in the position to share such intimate details of his life with anyone. He’s never had such intimate details to share before either. Because of that, he finds himself both unable to stem the flow of words pouring from his mouth and embarrassed by it.

Gio never says a word while he’s talking, but he doesn’t have to, his face is an open book. By the time Elia’s done, he’s almost hoping for Chiara’s sake that she never finds herself in Giovanni Garau’s path because he manages to look pissed off as well as commiserative.

“That’s really fucked, Eli,” is his only comment.

Even though that had been how Elia had felt as well most of the time, he hadn't been entirely sure his outrage was justified until now. Lela had agreed with him, but she understood his plight in a very specific way. It’s comforting to hear that Giovanni seems to be on the same page.

Over the past month, he’s started to put some distance with the whole thing with Chiara. It had been fun while it lasted, even if it had gone to shit practically overnight at the end, or so it had felt like, and there was no reason to dwell on the bad stuff he could do nothing about. Chiara was certainly not losing any sleep over a relationship of barely two months, so neither should he.

It is, of course, easier said than done, and the feeling of humiliation still lingers, but he’s willing to chalk up the not-too-bad parts to experience and put the rest behind him.

“And since last summer, there hasn’t been any other girl you’ve been into? You want me to believe that you had nothing better to do on Valentine’s Day than listen to me mope about Sofi?” Gio continues, in an obvious attempt at changing the subject.

“As long as you provide pizza, you can mope as much as you want, man,” Elia replies, gesturing towards the leftovers on the table.

“It’s good to know what your price is.”

“Oh, I’m super cheap. Take me up on a good day, I might even listen for a beer.”

Gio makes an impressed face. “That’s good to know.” As he keeps looking at him expectantly, Elia shakes his head questioningly to make him spit it out. “No plans with Borroni, then?” Gio finally asks.

The only Borroni Elia knows is a guy from their class, and even though he seems nice enough, they don’t really know each other. Until he remembers that Massimo has a twin sister in a different class and that her name has come up before.

“Are you talking about Giulia Borroni? Massimo’s sister?” At Gio’ enthusiastic nod, he shakes his head. “Okay, what the fuck is up with her? People keep telling me she likes me, and I’ve spoken to her maybe twice in my life, and once she was just asking where her brother was.”

Gio just laughs like Elia hasn’t had at least five different people ask about a girl he barely knows.

“Okay, so that’s a no on Borroni, I guess. Anyone else?”

Sitting up, Elia considers his two options while he glances towards Gio who is burrowing into the arm of the sofa, having finally put down his phone back on the table with the empty pizza box.

He could continue playing it as he has been for 18 years, it’s barely even an act, it comes so naturally. Or he could suck it up and explain something he’s probably going to have to explain a number of times in the future to the one person he trusts not to judge him, to actively listen and believe he knows what he’s talking about.

If Filippo didn’t care, if Martino didn’t accuse him of jumping on the bandwagon, there is no reason for Gio to be anything but understanding, in theory, at least. The difference is that Gio knew what gay meant when Marti came out to him. He’s not so sure about asexuality.

“Okay, so here’s the thing,” he starts, which is not the best opener, but it does draw Gio’s attention right away as it’s not the girl’s name he was probably expecting. “After everything with Marti last year, it kinda got me thinking.”

Gio sits up again, and there’s an awareness that comes over his expression that says he knows what’s coming. Or at least, he thinks he knows. Elia is pretty sure he has a plot twist under his belt.

Out of sheer habit, he starts by trying to recount how things happened chronologically, but soon gives up when he remembers all the back and forth he had gone through. Instead, he just focuses on the salient events, talking to Martino, talking to Luca, which draws a surprised exclamation from Gio, and everything that followed. By the time he finishes drawing the broad strokes of his conversation with Lela and Filippo, something close to a frown has appeared over Gio’s brow, but he is still listening intently.

“It doesn’t mean I don’t want to date anyone, I’m just not attracted to anybody,” he concludes, trying to ignore the expression he doesn’t understand that Gio is still wearing.

“It’s really cool that you figured that out, man.” The words are undoubtedly Gio’s but there’s still something off with his attitude, and Elia’s default response to the possibility of getting hurt has always been to snap first and ask questions later.

“Is it?” He asks testily.

“Yes. I didn’t know that was a thing, but I guess it makes sense.”

He smiles, but Elia’s pretty sure he’s holding back, and he needs to know what.

“What’s up with you, do you have a problem with it or something?” If his tone comes out somewhat harsher than expected, he doesn't take it back.

“No,” Gio replies immediately, sounding more like himself. “Of course not. But…”

Elia sits up, puts his feet back on the ground and cuts him off. “But what?”

“Dude, it’s not what you think. I swear I don’t have a problem with it. I appreciate you telling me, but we’re talking about you right now, and I don’t want to make this about me.”

Whatever answer Elia was expecting, this was not one of the possibilities.

“What are you talking about?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

It would be so easy to drop it, Gio clearly would rather move on, but he’s intrigued and not quite reassured yet. There’s something here that he is missing.

“Come on, I’ve been, like, having epiphanies and rethinking stuff non-stop for months, I’m tired of the whole subject. Make it about you, I don’t care.”

His tone is still more vehement than he means it to but at least that draws a laugh from Gio who sits up as well, mirroring his position.

“What you just said, some of it, it sounds a little familiar, is all.”

For a beat, Elia just looks at him, thinking that it should explain things. Except it really doesn’t.

Gio’s just looking back at him and it doesn’t seem likely that he’s going to be much help. Apparently, it’s for them both to figure it out.

“Are you serious?” Elia asks instead, rhetorically enough, because there is no doubt that Gio is being anything but.

“Yes.”

It occurs to him briefly that that would have been nice to know last year and the year before that when apparently Luca must have been the only one meaning half of the conversations they were having. But it would really be hypocritical of him to begrudge Gio for that.

He doesn’t usually like prying unless people make it abundantly clear that they’re willing, or even expecting, to discuss something in great details, but the situation clearly calls for it. Gio doesn’t look like he knows where to go from there any more than he does.

“But… weren’t you attracted to Eva? Or Sofi?”

“No, I was,” Gio answers after a thoughtful pause. “But not right away. I wasn’t into Eva at first, I guess it only came later, because Laura and I were spending a lot of time with her. And it was pretty much the same with Sofia.”

Elia’s spent enough time online looking into the subject by now that the words ring a bell. But that’s still a shaky basis to start making any kind of assumption, so he keeps prying.

“What about Laura, then?”

Gio makes a face, and the emotion it reflects, the uncertainty mixed with reluctance and a tinge of denial, is all too familiar to him as well. “I honestly don’t know, man. It’s really hard to tell.”

Elia can’t help but snort, because boy, does that ring a bell as well. “Tell me about it.”

He also remembers how it had felt when that emotion had passed to make way for relief. Sure, he’d love to help Gio make the move as well, if this is what’s happening, but in the moment, he mostly can’t believe he’s barely done having his own epiphany only to now be in this position himself.

It feels too easy somehow to have ended up having to be the one to dish out advice, like there should be an exam of some sort before he’s allowed to take on somebody else’s sexuality crisis. Especially as he seems to be the one to have brought it out.

“And nobody else, then?” He does realize that he’s basically parroting Gio’s words from earlier back at him, but it does seem like a good place to start.

Gio shakes his head in answer. By now, Elia’s curiosity has been around and he figures he can keep asking as long as Gio doesn't give any inkling that he wants to drop the subject.

“Is that why it took so long for you to tell us you and Sofi were dating? We kinda thought you had given up. Or maybe she had given up on you.”

“Yes, I think that’s why. After that party at Marti’s, we got together a couple of times, but it was weird. In hindsight, I think I couldn’t tell if I really wanted it to be a thing, or if I felt like I should want it to be a thing.”

The memory of drawing numbers in Martino’s kitchen is starting to wear off, but Elia manages to summon parts of it. He remembers Gio’s face freezing for a second when he pulled a number out of the bag.

“That’s right, you weren’t that eager to go talk to her.”

“I don’t even know, it happened pretty quickly. But yeah, we just ended up hanging out together for a while, and she was really cool about it.” Gio pulls at a thread that’s about to start unravelling on his left sock for a few seconds before he looks up again with a grin. “But you must have been so relieved I beat you in the end.”

“Honestly, I really didn’t know anything back then, I’ve no idea what I thought. Except that it couldn’t possibly be worse than that first time I tried to talk to her.”

That's one memory Elia could have done without, but now that he’s over the embarrassment, he can laugh about it for what it was, a hopeless attempt to prove to himself something that didn’t really matter that much.

“How did you figure it out, then? Because before tonight, I never thought there was anything up.”

Pins and needles have started to run through Elia’s legs so he puts his feet up on the coffee table, next to the empty pizza box. He rests his head against the back of the sofa, pondering the question.

“It wasn’t just one thing, and it took months. Or maybe years, actually. There was when you and Eva broke up, and then when Marti and Nico got together. Also, when we were at a party at Peccio’s, I think it was about a year ago, I was talking to Marti, and I don’t know, it must have been something he said or maybe I had just been thinking about it, I can’t remember. And believe it or not, Luchino actually pointed me in the right direction.”

“Shit, seriously?”

“I swear, I can’t tell if he did it on purpose or not, but he put his finger on all the right things.”

Gio hums appreciatively. “What’s happening to the world, man? You’re not straight, you’re telling me I might not be, Luchino’s making sense…”

“Right?” Elia makes a helpless gesture. “And then after New Year’s, I talked to Filippo and a friend of his, and that’s when I was pretty sure.”

With a slight frown, Gio nods. “That was only last month. That’s not long ago at all.”

“No. I’m still kind of wrapping my head around it.” He pauses for a breath or two because what he’s about to add sounds cheesy even to his own ears, “But it feels really good, man.”

It sounds even worse out loud, but the smile it draws from Giovanni is nothing but fond. “It does?”

“Yeah. I didn’t get why at first, but I was just so relieved. Before, it was kinda like I was performing, but I had no idea I was performing, because I didn’t know I wasn’t actually feeling all this stuff people kept talking about.” Elia still hasn’t quite gotten the hang of putting it into words, but he feels he might be getting better at it.

“And it made you talk in metaphors or something as well?”

“Fuck off,” Elia retorts, without any bite to it.

“But I mean it, that’s really cool.”

“Yeah,” Elia answers and there’s not much to say about it because it is. He picks up the bottle of Coke that’s sitting under the table and pours himself another glass. “And sorry I thought you were going to be an asshole before.”

“Are you kidding?” Giovanni responds, slapping him on the shoulder. “I’m sorry for having an epiphany right in the middle of your moment.”

“Oh, yeah, how dare you figure stuff out about yourself, you selfish prick," Elia shoots back, which earns him another slap from Gio, and it's not so friendly this time. While Elia rubs his shoulder with a glare, Gio turns thoughtful again.

“So, you think I might be as well, then? Asexual?”

Elia inhales deeply before he answers and tries to remember the way Filippo and Lela had talked to him.

“Okay, don’t take my word for it because that’s really up to you to see if that's how you feel and everything, but from what you said, I think it might be something else. You’ve ever heard of demisexuality?”

Gio shakes his head. “Never heard of it. That’s also a thing?”

“Dude, if there’s one thing I’ve learned is that everything’s a thing, even if you might not know it. Turns out, feelings are a fucking mess.”

“I’m pretty sure I already knew that,” Gio answers with a teasing smile.

“Oh no, it’s so much worse, trust me.” Gio’s smile falls a little and he looks almost worried, so Elia tries for a lighter tone. “I mean, it’s not all bad, basically there’s good news and bad news.”

“Oh, shit,” Gio laughs this time, looking relieved that Elia's not being completely serious. “Bad news, too?”

“Depends on your perspective, really. I thought it was bad news. The bad news is, once you’ve started questioning things about yourself, it never stops, so welcome to that hell. Who knows what you’re going to uncover next?”

“I think I can live with that kind of bad news. What’s the good news, then?”

Elia scratches his cheek. “I guess the good news is some people managed to make some sense out of this mess, so that’s part of the work already done. You just gotta see what fits you and whatever it is, there’ll be other people like you, too. That’s pretty awesome.”

He turns to Gio to find him with that same fond look on his face again. It might be a little proud as well. “Sounds like it.”

Elia nods and takes another gulp of Coke. He’s parched. The end credits have long stopped rolling on the screen, and he feels like he’s been talking for hours, his throat dry and his brain fuzzy.

Next to him, Gio picks up the pillow that sits between them and shoves it behind his back to make himself more comfortable. His eyes wander around him to come to rest on the coffee table. There is silence in the room for a moment before he speaks again.

“Do you want a piece of brownie? I feel like it's staring at me.”

Elia’s eyes lock onto the cake and while it feels like only seconds ago that his body was done with food of any kind for the foreseeable future, now it seems like there’s nothing he’s ever wanted more in this life.

“Fuck yes, I think we definitely deserve it.”

“Oh, we do. Talk about your feelings, get cake, that sounds like a healthy way to live your life.”

Elia laughs as he picks up a corner piece.

“Hey, I don’t judge how you live. But you know what would go great with it and be even more rewarding?” As he receives a questioning look in answer, he continues, “People not talking about feelings and hunting vampires instead.”

Gio’s face lights up and he fishes the remote from under the cushions.

“I think _that’s_ actually the best news.”


	6. Niccolò

The air is filled with music while rainbows seem to be floating everywhere around them, on people’s clothes, faces and hair, filling the streets of Rome with bursts of color carried by cheers, songs and slogans all mixing together. Somewhere, not too far from them, someone is blowing massive bubbles, each of which draws “ohs” and “ahs” from the crowd.

It is way too hot to be here, on the hottest day of the week according to the media, who all seem to agree on something for once. And yet, here they are, standing in the sun in the midst of thousands of people.

Next to Elia, Niccolò raises a hand to pop a bubble that’s floating right at them. He laughs as it disappears in a cloud of droplets, scaring a small dog that starts yapping at where the bubble was just a second ago.

Somehow, the sight reminds Elia of a promise he had made to himself over a year ago to have words with him, although he cannot quite remember why exactly.

“This is all your fault, you know?” He states, raising his voice to be heard over the general sense of revelry.

“What is?” Nico turns to him, with an understandably confused look on his face.

“Before you came into the picture, we were all very happy pretending to be a merry band of heterosexuals. And now, look at us. Luchi’s the only survivor.”

Niccolò laughs again, apparently not willing to own up to his responsibility in the whole affair.

“Were you that happy?” He asks instead. “Because I have it on good authority that at least one of you wasn’t.”

A few steps away from them, Martino is trying to fight off Filippo who is intent on covering him in glitter. Elia has been keeping a wary eye on them as he has a feeling he might be next, since Nico has already submitted to the glittering just long enough for Filippo to be satisfied and leave him alone.

“Maybe not Marti, but Gio and I were fine.” Nico is giving him a very pointed look. “Okay, maybe Gio was fine, I don’t know.”

“You’re welcome, then,” Nico answers, the shit-eating grin refusing to leave his face.

 

Going to Pride had not been something Elia had planned or intended to do. In fact, it hadn't even occurred to him.

Or at least, it hadn't until it came up while they were all hanging out. Niccolò had looked so excited at the idea and Martino like he was tempted, but also like he wasn’t looking forward to it that much and could use the moral support. They hadn't had a chance to go last year after everything, and in the moment, the words had been out before Elia could think about them too much. “Hey, could I come too?”

Martino had looked relieved and Nico was happy, so maybe it had been worth it. Maybe. Jury was still out.

Especially given the size of the tub of glitter Filippo is holding.

Filippo himself, upon learning that they were planning on going, had given Martino a very long and meaningful look that the latter had stubbornly ignored and that neither of them had explained.

They had all met up at the Savas' because they lived the closest to the action. Eleonora had welcomed them with face paint and a no-nonsense attitude. When Elia had perfunctorily rejected her offer, she had merely shaken tubs of purple and grey in front of his eyes. After that, he had taken a seat on the nearest chair, and she had kindly not mentioned his initial refusal while she smeared the paint on his cheeks.

Despite Filippo hounding him, Martino getting ready had more or less stopped with him looking down at his clothes and proclaiming that he looked fine, which had of course devolved into everybody else competing to turn that statement into the worst possible innuendo they could think of. Nico had easily won, because nobody had dared try to outdo him.

Meanwhile, Incanti was surveying the whole scene from the doorway to the kitchen with an amused look on his face. He hadn't even noticed Ele approach with her hand covered in pink paint until it was too late.

Now that they're here, he doesn’t mind the paint that much anymore, if only because four stripes on his cheeks fair pretty low compared to the costumes some people are donning, but especially because a few minutes after they arrived, a group of people all dressed in purple and waving asexual flags had rushed to him to engulf him in hugs before he realized what was happening.

Lela had made a brief appearance soon after that, just long enough to ruffle his hair like he's still 12 and she's his aunt Ilaria, and be introduced to the rest of them, before disappearing somewhere back into the crowd.

 

They watch a group of women in their sixties, as decked out as everybody else and carrying a rolled-up banner, approach and join the parade. Niccolò turns towards Elia.

“Oh, did Sam tell you he wasn't coming? He’s got to babysit his sisters.”

Of course, Niccolò has a terrible poker face under normal circumstances, but now he's not even trying to conceal his curiosity, so Elia's not going to make it easy for him.

“I know, he texted me.”

In return, he gets a questioning look that he has no intention of indulging unless Nico actually asks him flat out what is obviously on the tip of his tongue and has been for at least a few weeks now.

In the end, he keeps his questions to himself. “You’re welcome again,” he says, just as smugly as before.

Since Nico started reconnecting with his friends from his first high school, they’ve all met and become more or less acquainted with them. Sam was the last one Nico had gotten in touch with, simply because he had only come back to Italy at the beginning of the year, after spending the first half of his gap year travelling in Cambodia to meet some of his extended family.

When he had first come back to Rome, he had gladly accepted Nico’s offer to stay with him in his grandma's flat rather than move back in with his parents. As they've all been spending a lot of time at that flat, now that they have a place to hang out where no parent is ever susceptible to show up unexpectedly, by proximity, they've been spending a lot of time with Sam as well.

He and Elia hit if off almost immediately when they had been picked out as the Lovers during a game of Werewolf, and Elia can appreciate the irony here, which they had proceeded to win together by outliving everybody else.

Since then, they've been spending a lot of time together either as a group or just the two of them, because as it turns out, they have a lot in common. It occurred to Elia at some point in the last month, that he's no longer that sure if he's made a new best friend or if it's something else. The line looks pretty blurry to him, and he can't tell on which side he's standing.

Luckily, Sam's easygoing enough, and he doesn’t feel like there is any rush in clarifying the situation. Now that Martino started moving his stuff into Nico’s flat about the second they were done with exams, Sam is in the process of finding his own place in Rome. So, he’s not going anywhere, and neither is Elia.

Whatever it is, however, Niccolò clearly has an opinion on the matter, judging by the glint in his eyes every time Sam’s name comes up in Elia's presence and the fact that he is still refusing to look away.

When Elia had told Gio that once he had started, he would never stop questioning things about himself, he had meant it half-jokingly. But he's no longer joking, not when he's being faced with the very real possibility that he's having feelings for a guy.

It had hit him one night, after Sam had walked him home and given him a one-armed hug that still definitely qualified as platonic but was also longer than any good night hugs he had exchanged with friends. One of the first feelings he had been able to make out was a deep urge to roll his eyes at himself.

Until he was 18, he had never even thought to question that he might be anything other than straight, and here he was wondering if he was into a guy and not even freaking out about it. If anything, he was more annoyed. He had been under the impression that he was pretty self-aware, but how much stuff could he possibly still have to find out about himself? And most importantly, would it ever stop?

Niccolò finally looks away back towards the crowd and Elia almost wants to take pity on him. After all, he wouldn't have met Sam without Nico, for all that he still holds him vaguely responsible for, if not causing, at least precipitating his identity crisis.

“He said he might stop by tonight, though, and to tell him what we do after,” Elia offers.

Nico's head snaps back in his direction and he looks surprised that Elia actually volunteered more information on the subject.

“Really? He didn't tell me that.”

Elia just smiles at him in answer, but he seems to take it as some kind of confirmation, because he gives him a pat on the back. They both turn back towards a family of four that have come to stand next to them while a five or six-year-old stares in slack-jawed awe at the scene surrounding them.

Before Niccolò can decide to pull out his metaphorical shovel and start digging any deeper, Martino joins them, probably taking advantage of the fact that Filippo has found people he knows and is distracted for the moment. Nico wraps his arm around his waist so they’re pressed together, which is the most PDA they've exhibited in public in a long time. They look comfortable here, in a way that they don't anywhere else.

“Did you know Marti’s mom wanted to come with us?” Nico announces, forgoing any further references to Sam for the moment, for which Elia will have to concede that he is grateful.

“No way? Your mom?”

“No,” Martino cuts off, with a look at Niccolò. “That’s not what happened. She was just asking a lot of questions and kinda looked like she was considering it, but she never said she would.”

“And what did you do?” Elia presses, finding it hard to imagine Martino's usually quiet and nervous mother here.

“I told her how many people they were expecting, and apparently that did it.”

For all that he’s pretending he didn’t want his mom here, there’s something wistful in Martino’s expression. Apparently, he’s reading it right, because Nico’s arm around his waist tightens as well. Trying to picture even broaching the topic to his parents, let alone bringing them here, Elia has to admit he has no idea how he could possibly go about it.

“Hey, maybe next year, man,” he offers, not sure whether to lean towards teasing or comforting and hoping he lands somewhere in between.

Martino rolls his eyes but he's not fooling either of them.

“And maybe next year Gio'll be able to come as well. Who even knows, maybe Eli will bring somebody,” Niccolò adds.

There is not even a hint of pretense at innocence in his tone, and Martino’s eyes flicker to him and then Elia in succession, curiosity clear on his face. Elia tries his best to keep his face neutral and after a second, Martino simply turns away.

“That’s true,” he comments. “Who knows, after the past two years, I'm pretty sure anything's possible at this point.”

Elia has got to agree with him on that.

 

As they exchange glances and finally leave the sidelines to join in with everybody else, Elia turns Martino’s words around in his head.

Right now, he's content with mingling in the crowd and celebrating, with trying to avoid both a heatstroke and a sneak glitter attack now that Filippo is no longer in his line of sight, and that's already not too bad for one day’s work.

Tomorrow, he'll see.

And after that, precisely, who knows?

So many things are up in the air, there’s college and then life to figure out, there’s trying to keep up hope in a world that’s not always making it easy, there’s no longer seeing his friends every day, and he doesn’t even want to start thinking about that until summer is over, there’s Sam and more feelings to sort through. There’s a lot of unknown.

He may not have a step-by-step recipe for whatever is ahead, but he’s got a clearer picture of who he is and what he wants, and he’s got people who have his back.

It’s a pretty good start.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t know if people play Werewolf in Italy, but in [the French version](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Werewolves_of_Millers_Hollow) of the game, you can pick two people to play as the Lovers, and they either both die or win together. So, I couldn’t resist. Plus, they're all nerds, they'd love that game.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading 💜


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